


Down on You.

by xerxezra



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, Fun times for all, and a surprise in the end!, boi we got some fingering action, especially connor, some pussy eating
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-29
Updated: 2018-06-29
Packaged: 2019-05-30 03:29:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15088034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xerxezra/pseuds/xerxezra
Summary: Connor’s mouth is as sinful as his fingers, and you are all too happy to oblige him.





	Down on You.

After a particularly eventful day that resulted in an unpleasant altercation with some red ice smugglers, you were enjoying every moment of quiet relaxation at home. Your wounds were taken care of promptly by on-sight medics, but Connor’s adamant pestering to Captain Fowler to let you take the rest of the day off to recuperate worked wonderfully in your advantage. 

With a flute of red wine in hand and the TV remote in the other, you almost forgot about the stern talking-to Connor promised as he stayed behind in the main offices. Your lover was as caring as he was unrelenting when it came to criticizing your rather unorthodox methods of getting things done. 

The sound of the front door opening and closing pulled you out of your zen. 

“Go easy on me, honey!” you called out over your shoulder, cheekily grinning as you took a sip of your wine. If you were going to get torn apart from the nagging, you may as well go down in style. 

Connor didn’t bother replying. He simply came around the couch and stood right in front of the television, arms crossed and brows burrowed. Even when Connor was mad, you couldn’t help admire how attractive he looked. 

“You really must have a death wish.”

“I’m _fine_ , Connor. Just a little bruised up, nothing I can’t handle.”

“That’s beside the point. You do realize you could have been seriously injured if not for Hank, right?” 

That stern voice was really doing things to you right now. It must be the wine; you gingerly set it down. “Connor —“

“ _No._ ” He kneeled down in front of you, hands gripping your knees. "You don’t _get_ extra chances like me. This could have been the end of it and — and I can’t lose you. Not to some goddamn _criminals_.” 

Your whimsical mood quickly dissipated. It wasn’t fair to him, you realized, how lightly you treated your injuries whenever missions went awry. Injuries weren’t _supposed_ to happen with Connor around, and any sustained damages to you meant failure on his part. And the poor man did not handle failure well. 

You pressed a light kiss to his frowning mouth. “I’m sorry for worrying you. I’ll be more careful next time, I promise.” But that was as far as you would go. This was the nature of the job, after all. 

He sighed. “What am I going to do with you?” 

You hummed in thought, smiling mischievously. “You could rub my shoulders, for a start.” He quirked a brow at you. “Just a suggestion…”

Connor narrowed his eyes in mock consternation, but the upturned corner of his mouth hinted at your victory. He swiftly stood up and circled the couch, his cold hands sending shivers down your spine as he caressed the sides of your neck and glided them down across your shoulders to let your robe pool around your upper arms. 

His touch was feather-light and gentle, searching out tensed up muscles along your spine. Each moan and breathy sigh was catalogued in that calculating mind with ruthless efficiency — Connor had an uncanny ability to manipulate your responses, teasing out as much pleasure as he deemed fit. 

And he _loved_ it, having you at his complete mercy in every possible way. He could have you whimpering and begging with need for him at a moment’s notice, but he never teased you for too long. It was all for your benefit, because nothing made you feel more comforted than knowing you could put your trust in his hands.

Hands that were currently smoothing away years of tension while you writhed and groaned from how good it felt.

You could tell Connor was staring intently at a particularly nasty-looking bruise on the side of your neck. Slowing down the gentle kneading of his hands, he bent down to press a tender kiss to the injury. Such a simple gesture of affection, and yet it sent your heart soaring with love for him. 

You turned your head quickly before he had the chance to move away, tangling your fingers in his hair as you brought him to meet your lips, leisurely stroking your tongue against his own and reveling in the soft moan Connor could not contain. 

“Come here and _really_ make out with me,” you muttered against his lips, smiling as he chuckled and pulled away from you. 

“Your wish is my command,” he teased, swiftly undoing his tie and unbuttoning his shirt as he came back around to climb over you while you lay across the couch, situating himself comfortably between your thighs. 

He was careful not to settle his weight onto your chest where most of the damage occurred, but the feeling of him pressed against your core made you whimper with need. You ran your hands up his bare chest, biting your lip as you admired his tousled appearance. 

As he placed his forearm above your head and grasped your thigh, you leaned upwards to catch his lips and cradled his face between your hands. The kiss was slow and unhurried, and you took the time to explore the softness of his lips and the unique taste of his mouth, a tinge of metallic sweetness coating your tongue. 

Your fingers carded through his hair as he pushed you further into the cushions to deepen the kiss. The sound of wet sucking combined with the heady feel of his broad chest against your stiff nipples had you in a frenzy in no time, and you wrapped your legs around his waist to grind into him. 

The distinct lack of a bulge did nothing to dampen your mood. You worked with what you had, angling your hips for more friction as you shamelessly moaned and panted, secretly hoping that you were leaving a wet patch on the front of his pants. 

“Somebody’s eager,” Connor said as he grinned against your lips.

“Don’t be a tease,” you whimpered, hands moving to grip the back of his shirt to urge him closer. 

The hand on your thigh slid around to cup your behind, and Connor purposefully rolled his hips to meet your eager thrusts. Your cunt was soaked and throbbing from pleasure, and when he sucked gentle kisses along your neck to whisper into your ear, “I’ll take care of you, baby,” you nearly came right then and there. 

His kisses trailed downwards, carefully avoiding the purple bruises on your collarbone and sternum until his lips closed around a nipple. You whined as he sucked and nipped and rolled his tongue around the stiff peak, and he released it with a wet pop to repeat the same delicious torture to your other breast. 

Further and further down he went, scooting back down the couch as he continued kissing your stomach all the way down. You licked your lips in anticipation, but Connor’s knowing smile was a dead giveaway for his relentless teasing. His mouth avoided your aching pussy entirely, and his hands wrapped around your shaky legs in an iron grip as he held them spread open and licked along the inside of your thighs until he left you a mewling mess. 

You bit your lip at the sight before you — Connor between your legs, staring back at you with that self-assured smirk and hair all mussed up from your arduous fingers. He was so, _so_ close to where you needed him most, and he held your attention with a glint in his eyes as he pressed a sucking kiss to your wet cunt and swirled his tongue teasingly around your clit. 

Your head fell back against the cushions with a low moan, torn between wanting to watch and having to close your eyes from pleasure. You felt him blow gently on your heated sex, and you bucked your hips to draw him closer, sighing as his tongue lazily dragged along your folds in bold strokes. 

If there was anything Connor excelled at, it was using his mouth for this very purpose. He switched his speed sporadically, lightly gliding the tip of his tongue around your clit until you whimpered in frustration, then redoubling his efforts as he sucked and licked and dipped into your pussy for a taste. 

You were a writhing, panting mess, grinding your hips into his mouth and gripping whatever your hands could reach as tingling pleasure quickly welled up at your core.

Yet just as you were about to reach your peak, the cruel bastard pulled away to say, “I didn’t give you permission to come yet.” 

“Less talking, more mouth fucking,” you groaned impatiently, and Connor slowly, torturously slid back up your body to look at you, his fingers applying barely any pressure to your neglected cunt. 

“You seem to be under the impression that you’re in control here,” he cooly replied, his voice firm and authoritative. God, how you loved that strictness, that composed demeanor.

“Please?” you sweetly asked, but your coyness gave way to a startled gasp as Connor plunged two fingers deep into your pussy, angling them upwards to stroke right where you needed. 

The wordless cry you emitted must have been heard around the neighborhood. You tried to bring him down for a kiss to smother your embarrassingly loud moans, but Connor resisted. 

And you knew just what he wanted. You met his heated stare, patiently giving him your undivided attention. 

“Tell me, sweetheart. Who makes you feel this good? Who makes you so _wet_ and desperate?” His fingers slowed their pace as he leaned in closer. “ _Tell me_.”

“ _You_ ,” you sighed, like a prayer for your salvation. “It’s always you!"

His lips crashed against yours in a heated kiss, all sloppy wetness and twisting tongues while his fingers pumped into you. You were utterly breathless when he pulled away, and he took a moment to look at your flushed face, lips rosy and swollen and pupils dilated to an impossible size. He pressed one last quick kiss to your mouth, whispering, “Good girl,” and returning to his place between your legs to suck on your clit as his fingers worked their magic. 

“ _Connor!_ ,” you cried out. “Oh _fuck_ don’t stop, _please_ —“

And he _moaned_ against you, the deep vibrations mingling with the overwhelming feeling of his tongue sliding around your clit and his fingers curling inside you sent you spiraling into sweet release. Your thighs quivered and clamped around him, the aftershocks waning as a comforting warmth settled throughout your worn out body. 

Connor pressed a final kiss to your thigh and eagerly folded into your welcoming arms for a hug, running his hands along your sides and nuzzling the uninjured side of your neck. 

“Thank you,” you whispered, eyes closed and a sleepy smile spreading across your face.

“My pleasure, beautiful.” He slowly eased out of the embrace, righting his clothing as he wandered off to prepare dinner.

You were just about to drift off into the best postcoital nap of your life when loud knocking at the front door jolted you awake. 

Who the hell was that? You weren’t expecting anyone. 

Connor quickly reappeared from the kitchen looking like a guard dog on patrol, and you rolled your eyes at the outline of a gun nestled neatly at his side. 

“Honey, is that really necessary?” you asked as you tightened the robe around you and followed him to the door. 

“You can never be too cautious.”

“You can never be too overdramatic, too, it seems.”

Connor cast you a withered look as you smirked at him, quickly opening the door first before someone got too trigger-happy. 

“Hank?"

-

Hank was, for all intents and purposes, a cantankerous old man who couldn’t be half-assed to do anything requiring too much of his effort. 

That’s not to say though, that he was completely heartless. 

He was very happy to save your sorry ass from a beating, despite grousing about your ineptitude the second his adrenaline and worry wore off. He was even inspired enough to come pay you a visit after hours to make sure you weren’t too banged up.

Oh, how cruel life was to him sometimes.

As Hank made his way up your driveway, he realized that perhaps coming by at such a late hour might not have been the best idea. You must have been sleeping by now. 

Except the lights were still on in the living room. Hank came over to the window — maybe Connor was the only one up — and peered inside. 

And boy, did he want to die a million deaths in that moment. 

“Jesus _fucking Christ_ —“ 

-

You blinked owlishly at the disgruntled detective, confusion written all over your face as Connor peered over your shoulder. “Hello, what brings you here at this hour?” he asked. 

“Just wanted to _stop on by_ , to check up on you folks,” he muttered through gritted teeth. “And for the record, the next time you idiots want to get down and dirty, you might wanna close the _fucking curtains_!”

That’s it, this is where you die. Not on the field, not in comfort surrounded by friends and family after a long, fulfilling life, but right here. In your foyer, dead from embarrassment as your senior officer glared daggers into your soul.

You could only gape in stunned silence, frozen in utter humiliation. Connor, of course, looked only mildly sheepish. And was that a _smirk_? 

“Sorry, Hank,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. 

“Yeah, I bet you are, you fucking asshole.” Hank groaned and closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose for a moment before letting out a deep exhale. “Alright, we’re moving past this shit. You feeling okay, kid?” 

It took you a second to realize he was addressing you. “O-oh, um, yes. I’ll report to work tomorrow morning. Thanks again for the assist, or else I would have been a lot worse for wear…” 

Hank grunted in acknowledgement. “Anyway, I got a glass of whiskey at Jimmy’s Bar with my name written on it. You jerkoffs keep having your _fun_.” He shook his head as he turned his back on you, and you caught a glimpse of a smile. “Catch you later.” 

You offered a shaky goodbye and slowly closed the door, panic and shame welling up inside you as you looked at Connor. And the damn android had the audacity to _chuckle_.

“You’re enjoying this,” you said accusingly. 

“That’s not true —“

“You think this is _funny!_ ”

“I didn’t say that —“

“Connor.” You pressed your face into his chest. “How am I supposed to look him in the eye ever again?”

He let out a boyish laugh and wrapped his arms around you, and your anxiety momentarily dispersed. “Everything will be fine, sweetheart. Knowing Hank, he’ll probably say a toast to us at the bar —“

“ _Connor!_ ” you shrieked, and you both descended into a chorus of shameless laughter.


End file.
